


We'll Try Again Tomorrow

by mournwiththemoon



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Angst, Death, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, Vic being Vic, sad sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mournwiththemoon/pseuds/mournwiththemoon
Summary: Vic gets some news about Vincent. Eddie gets caught in the crossfire.
Relationships: Mr. Blonde/"Nice Guy" Eddie Cabot
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	We'll Try Again Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS - this fic deals with death and includes (very) brief mentions of overdose and physical abuse. also, smut, but not particularly explicit
> 
> and yes the opening line is partly lifted from orwell for some reason i just liked it

It's a bright cold day in April when they get the news that Vincent's dead.

Vic chuckles down the phone, takes a drag from his cigarette.

Eddie watches from across the room where he's rolling a joint on the coffee table. Vic's apartment is gross. The light from the window never seems to hit quite right; it's always too dark and stuffy even with the curtains pulled back. Everything looks dirty and damp, but it smells of Vic, and that's enough.

"Who was that?" Eddie asks, not looking up from what he's doing. He hears Vic clear his throat a little as he sets down the receiver.

"Uh, Vince is dead."

Eddie thinks that's a pretty sick joke even for Vic, but when their eyes meet his face drops.

"Fuck."

Vic snorts softly and flicks his cigarette out the open window, immediately lighting up another.

"Yup."

His face is blank, as it usually is - Eddie knows there's little hope of finding out what's going beneath the surface. He runs a hand through his hair and flops back onto the sofa.

"Fuck," he says again. "What happened?"

Vic actually laughs then, his eyes creasing at the corners like they always do. It doesn't look right.

"'S fuckin' Vince, man. What d'you think happened?"

Vince had been an addict since the day Eddie first met him. He was nicer than Vic; older than Vic, but no better at keeping himself out of trouble. Vic had always said that something fucked up was bound to happen to him - Eddie had always just assumed it was a joke.

Suddenly he doesn't fancy the joint in front of him.

His eyes find Vic again, and he watches him carefully, half trying to take in the news, half trying to work out what the fuck's going on in the other guy's head. Luckily Vic fills the silence.

"Was a long time comin',” he says softly, more to himself than anything else. “Everyone fuckin' knew it. Prick."

Eddie pushes himself to his feet, and he's at Vic's side in a second.

"Vic, I'm so sorry, I'm so fuckin' sorry," he babbles, and he's reaching out to touch Vic's hip when he feels a strong hand stopping him.

"We're not gonna talk about it."

Vic's voice is huskier than usual, and for the first time that day he meets Eddie's gaze. The look on his face doesn't suit him. His eyes have too much feeling in them, he looks like he wants to laugh and scream and cry all at once. He looks like he's out of his fucking mind. That part isn't exactly new, but Eddie wants to throw up. Instead, he manages to choke out;

"Okay. We won't talk about it."

So they don't.

*

The rest of the day passes in silence; they watch some old spaghetti western that Vic used to like, then he falls asleep on the sofa with his head in Eddie's lap.

Vic never looks peaceful when he sleeps. Today it freaks Eddie out a little more than usual. Gently, he runs his fingers through Vic's dark curls, taking in his thick smell of smoke and aftershave and a slight tinge of sweat. Eddie wants to grab him, to shake him and yell _what the fuck is going on in your head, what the fuck are you thinking right now, fucking tell me something true for once_. He briefly considers carrying Vic through to the bedroom, but the idea feels a bit weird for some reason and Eddie's too scared to make any sudden movements.

He waits for the movie to finish, not taking any of it in, then reaches over to turn the radio on. Vic can't sleep if the room's too quiet.

Some old murder ballad begins playing quietly, and Eddie lets it sing him to sleep.

Vic disappears for most of the next day. He takes Zosco, his German Shepherd, out in his car and doesn't get back till the evening.

Eddie had meant to go back to his place and sort himself out, but he'd been worried Vic would come back to find him gone and not know what to do with himself. Eddie doesn't tell him that though. Vic hates being babied, as he calls it. Babied translates to being cared for, but Eddie doesn't mention that either.

"I got takeout," he mumbles as Vic drops his car keys on the sideboard and slips Zosco's collar off. He doesn't respond, just comes and sits himself down next to Eddie on the sofa, and lights a cigarette. Eddie hates people smoking when he's tryna eat, but he keeps his mouth shut.

"Victor?"

"What."

"I love you, man."

"Alright."

Eddie scrunches up the takeout wrappers and tosses them over his shoulder, missing the trash can by a mile.

"I'll pick that up later."

"I don't give a shit."

After a while Zosco jumps up to rest on Vic's lap, and Vic falls asleep on Eddie's shoulder. They stay there for the night, Vic flinching and shifting occasionally in his sleep. Definitely having nightmares, Eddie knows. He presses a kiss to Vic's forehead and pulls him close. It doesn't stop the nightmares, but it keeps them both warm.

*

Eddie was fifteen when his mom died. With hindsight, she was by far the most normal person in Eddie’s life; he wished he'd appreciated it more. In all honesty it probably fucked him up a lot more than he first realised. For his father, grief took the form of anger; of shouting and punching walls (but never Eddie, luckily). For Eddie, it didn't seem to take much of a form at all. He'd cried and been sent home early from school a couple of times for getting in fights, but other than that he never spoke about it. He never had the chance. It didn't bother him much now, as long as he didn't stop to think about it.

A few days after Vincent died, they're sitting at the coffee table eating a rather depressing breakfast, and Vic asks;

"When's it stop hurting?"

Eddie doesn't look up.

"It doesn't," he says. "But every day you get a little better at dealin' with it."

*

The next week or so passes slowly and quickly all at once. Every day's the same; Vic disappears or spends the day drifting in and out of sleep, Eddie sits about in silence and waits for him. Now and then he manages to make Vic eat or take a shower, but most days it's a lost cause.

They don't talk much. There's nothing to say. When Vic's asleep he has nightmares, when he's not he sits and smokes, stares into nothing, doesn't respond when Eddie tries to talk to him.

He never looks sad. Half the time he doesn't even look bothered. It's not like when they were kids; when Vic would show up on Eddie's doorstep at 3 in the morning, either drunk or in trouble or sporting a new bruise from his dad. Back then there were tears and shouting and breaking shit. Even then he never outright said what he was feeling or thinking, but at least his actions made it pretty clear. Eddie isn't always sure what happened between then and now, despite the fact he was there for all of it. He can't pinpoint the moment when the old Vic stopped existing. Now everything was silent and unreadable and muted. Now, Eddie can barely tell the difference between a regularsmile and a _I'm falling to bits and I need you to keep me sane_ smile.

It's guesswork, mostly. There are barely any giveaways. Sometimes Vic will be laughing and joking about then go out and torch a car or kill someone for the sake of it. Other times he acts pissy about the smallest thing but then laughs in Eddie's face when he tries to start an argument over it. It's emotional gambling, and Vic's always the one holding all the cards.

So a little while passes, and the gap between the two of them feels so big that Eddie's not even sure if Vic wants him around anymore.

Vic's standing in the tiny kitchen of his apartment, pretending to listen to the radio as Zosco occasionally nudges at his legs for attention. Eddie's perched on the counter, fiddling absently with one of Vic's lighters. Eddie watches the other slowly, searching desperately in vain for any clue as to what the fuck Vic's thinking right now. For all Eddie knows he could be over it; he might not have even cared much in the first place. He hadn't made any attempt to contact Vincent in years. Besides, he'd literally laughed when he got the news. _Fuck knows_ , Eddie thinks.

"D'you want me to clear off?" he asks suddenly, deliberately not looking up.

It's quiet for a minute.

"What d'you mean?" comes the flat reply. It's the most Vic's said to him in weeks.

Eddie shrugs.

"I dunno if I'm just gettin' in your way, man. You're doin' your own thing y'know? And if you'd rather I left or gave you some space since you don't wanna talk no more-"

He doesn't get a chance to finish, as in a split second Vic's grabbing him from where he's sat on the counter, tugging desperately at Eddie's waist, his shoulders, anything he can get his hands on. Their lips meet roughly and Vic lets out a tiny groan, pushing away the dog that's snuffling at their heels.

Eddie tries to pull back and catch his breath, but Vic won't let him. Hoarsely, barely audible, he murmurs into Eddie's mouth;

"Don't leave, Eddie."

Vic takes him on the bed a minute later.

It's overwhelming, going from nothing to this all at once. The tension of the last few weeks dissolves as their bodies touch, Eddie hissing into Vic's neck as he pushes in, the two of them melting into a puddle of desperation and _I love you_ s.

It feels almost sacred being this close, having Vic inside him after so long. Vic doesn't meet his eyes, just stares at the space where their bodies meet. Eddie's more than reassured, though. Vic's never been this gentle in his life. He still digs his fingers in to the point where it hurts, still can't stop his hands drifting to Eddie's neck now and then; but each time their lips meet its soft and slow and deep, nothing like the usual roughness that comes with Vic in bed.

The run up to the climax is loud. Vic's hand is round the back of Eddie's neck, the other grabbing at his hip and digging into the soft skin. Eddie's hands are running amock, dancing over Vic's chest and his stomach, flinching a little with every deep thrust.

"Fuck," Eddie whimpers, burying his head into Vic's neck, biting the skin there like he knows Vic likes. "Fuck, Vic-"

He's not fully convinced Vic can even see him. His eyes are still fixed on their bodies, dark brows knitted together in a frown, lips parted as he pants. Eddie feels his own orgasm plateau before it even arrives, and he reaches up to cup Vic's face with both hands, gently tilting his head up to look at him.

"Toothpick-"

"I can't," Vic hesitates, his voice no more than a soft grunt. His eyes are red and searching and desperate. Eddie isn't sure if he's crying, and figures he'd rather not stop and think about the idea that he might be. "Eddie, I don't-"

"Shut up, man," Eddie murmurs, pulling him in close so his head's resting on his chest. It's not particularly comfortable, especially given the fact that Vic's still inside him, but it doesn't matter. "It's okay," he breathes into Vic's hair as he feels the skin of his own chest grow damp. "It's alright. We'll try again tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much if you read this, pls let me know what you thought (and also feel free to point out any mistakes as im sure there's a bunch of them). im aware that my writing style is an acquired taste but i hope you liked it. i love these boys and i could write about them forever so there will no doubt be more where this came from - this was more of a warm up drabble than anything else. also u can pry dog loving vic vega out of my cold dead hands 
> 
> if u ever wanna talk toothpick bitchslap with me u can find me at the-casbah-way on tumblr :)


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